


Once Upon A Nightmare

by theescapist99



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Super Short Fic, and i had to write it down, guilty percival graves, i had a dream about this last night, more of a blurb really, ummm angst much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 17:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10417785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theescapist99/pseuds/theescapist99
Summary: Percival Graves is forced to once again reflect on all the ways he has failed Credence Barebone.If only Grindelwald hadn't been such an accurate imitation -- if only Percival hadn't been so easy to mimic.Yet, Percival realizes as he stumbles onto the accumulation of all his nightmares and fears... there is one small detail that Grindelwald got wrong; one that likely no one noticed but himself.





	

Percival walks into his library, and the sight that greets him causes his knees to buckle.

Credence hangs by a rope around his neck -- tied to the branch of a chandelier that would not have been able to support the weight of anyone better nourished.

He is dead. Blue, black, and white as an early morning sky – bulging eyes stare down at him accusingly.

They ask him, “ _Why_?”

Why did you do this to me?

Why did you let Grindelwald overpower you, that fateful morning, when your insomnia and sleep deprivation had weakened you just enough? Why did you not see the spell that did you in coming, like you typically would have had you been in better health, in your younger days? Why did you stay unconscious until Grindelwald had already managed to drag you down into that filthy cellar --- where he plucked your hairs and extracted your memories?

Why were you so powerless to stop him, when he donned your face and he even gloated about seeking me out?

Why did you allow him to abuse me, while you crouched and rotted in literal darkness --- sobbing piteously for all the crimes your doppelganger committed in your name?

And as though Credence is speaking with the voice of someone living… Percival hears timid whimpers like vicious hisses. They flit and flicker throughout the air around him.

 A ghost that isn’t there moans sorrowfully:

“ _Why did you let your own Aurors kill me, Mr. Graves_?”

“ _Why didn’t you stop them_?”

“ _You promised you’d protect me_.”

“ _It hurt so much.”_

And it probably did hurt, far more than any wounds Mary Lou had ever inflicted on the boy.

The keen sting of a magical spell meant to do damage was nothing to be understated, particularly when you were experiencing it for the first time. It is something most every witch or wizard could remember.

And they _pelted_ Credence with stunning spells; much like bullets from a machine gun.  

Grindelwald had merely ducked out of the way; the coward.

Yet perhaps…perhaps that was one of the few things that could separate him from the dark wizard, Percival thinks to himself bitterly.

Had he been a true replica, he would have taken the blows for Credence without a second thought.

Had he been true to form, Grindelwald would have stood tall in their line of fire, doing whatever he could to shield the boy. Like the real Percival Graves would have.

They would have had to literally get to the boy over his dead body.

Lost in his thoughts, Percival doesn’t feel the warm tears dripping down his own cheeks; cheeks that have not experienced the lift of a genuine smile since he had learned the details of a betrayal that was not his own, but that he felt all the guilt for and beyond that.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, my boy…” Percival whispers to nobody who can hear.

Behind him, the distant echo of a far off door closing reaches his ears.

Percival quickly turns heel and steps out into the main living room, careful to close and lock the door behind him. He’ll deal with it later.

Credence steps in through the front door, his long black hair tied in a loose ponytail.

In his arms, he carries large brown bags filled to the brim with groceries. He looks over at Percival, at first smiling -- but the expression transforms into one of concern as he notices Percival’s shaken and sad demeanor.

“Percival, what’s wrong?”

Percival shakes his head with nonchalance. He doesn’t want to worry Credence.

Hoarsely, Percival mutters, “I really must do something about the boggarts in this house.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> So everything in this fic except the bit where he turns out to be alive happened in a dream I had the other night. I actually woke up sad about this, and so I felt the need to fix it. 
> 
> Maybe update Monsters Under The Stairs later tonight
> 
> carryonmyobscurialson.tumblr.com/


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